


Rewind, Play it Again

by Devilinthebox (princegrisejoie)



Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Swimming, Asexuality, Ficlet Collection, First Kiss, Gen, M/M, Married Couple, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Prompt Fic, Tattoos, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 07:17:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4170876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princegrisejoie/pseuds/Devilinthebox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Ficlets] A collection of Lawlight ficlets. There is no boundary between universes, just as there is no limit to your charming egotism.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Disguise of the Moon God

**Author's Note:**

> I live in the everlasting fear that I lose these, so here they are. Originally posted on tumblr (you can find them still there if you wanna, check mellodear@tumblr)  
> That first one is a Gods!AU requested by evelynlawliet and mrskandycane!

“It’s a story of gods, powerful gods, sorrowful gods. I thought you might like it.”  
  
L doesn’t tell them it’s a dream Light made his face pressed against the windowpane. The moon was invisible - blame city lights, blinding artificial lights. It seemed unfair.  
  
“We have religion classes. It’s enough. I know every God, and their powers too. I know Kira wasn’t one, or you would never have caught him… It’s a ‘him’, is it?”  
  
“Religions have nothing to do with my story, Mello. It’s not about any God you know. It could be about all of them, depending on your perspective.”  
  
Moonlight shone on the boys, the lost boys, as L sometimes named them in mind. Mihael narrowed his intimidating blue eyes.   
  
“I suppose we could listen, then.” Near gave a small nod, and climbed onto the bed. 

“Imagine there are a multitude of universes, and all they have in common are two deities. The mighty Sun and the indecipherable Moon. You can be lost in any strange land, you’ll look up and find them watching over you. For seven generations of Gods, lesser deities, and protective spirits, the Moon and the Sun paraded the High Celestial Plains as equals.”   
  
Near and Mello understood the meaning beneath the words. 

*

In this story, Light is the Moon, L is the Sun, and everyone else has their head craned to witness their battles. It starts quietly.

  
**  
  
“Would you resent me if I tell you that I finally met my foe? In you, I see a challenge, and a distraction far more exciting than anything our Brothers and Sisters have to offer.”Their siblings are the River, and the Sky, the Vines and the Mountains. Never-changing realities. Light traces the bones of his lover. “What do you feel for me?”  
  
“The opposite of loneliness,” L answers, for want of a suitable word.   
  
*  
  
In their envelopes of flesh and bones, the deities don’t recognise each other. Light, especially, posing as a servant of the divine moon, clasps the hand of its worshippers with sincere trembling fingers. He wears a garb of black and white and preaches for morals of similar black and white. Hypocrisy, coming from a star that changes its face on a whim. He poses for painters and reminds the poets of Apollo. They say he has grace. They say he has a bright smile. L never recognises him on the paintings.  
  
“I am the Sun, not him,” he deplores, and parches yet another river in retaliation.   
  
*  
  
The voices of Gods, at the time, hang in the air like lanterns, bright and warm and unreachable. To mortals, they aren’t so different from the songs of birds. They listen, but never understand.   
  
“You keep escaping me. Even when I bring you gifts.” A tremor on the last note.   
  
L is alluding to his latest idea – a trap, really. The humans call it Earthshine, in all their love for the little blue planet. In truth, the trick only concerns the moon and the sun and the sunlight illuminating the night face of the moon. L forgive their egotism. It’s so humanlike.Light does not forgive L.   
  
“I don’t want you to blind me. Sometimes I hide. You should respect that.”    
  
“Why should I? We vowed to meet, and you’re never there. We share a light, you and I. You’d do well to remember that.”   
  
After a quick glare, Light turns his back to L. “It’s my nature. I change.” L catches the lie easily, as he would a firefly fluttering in mid-air.   
  
“We are Gods. We are not subjected to Nature, we create it. Your phases, as they say, are under your control. You chose to appear treacherous. ”   
  
The truth of the words startle the Moon God with the silver-tongue. He blinks, and vanishes.  
  
*  
  
Centuries later, they meet again before the enchanted eyes of humankind – mortals watch eclipses, wide eyes riveted on the embraces of the Moon and the Sun. They have for centuries. It pleases Light more than L.   
  
Light flashes an elegant bottle before his adversary. “It’s the elixir of immortality. They all trusted me with it. All priests of the Moon, and some others.”   
  
In a phrase, smiling, Light evokes the new cult of the Moon. The Moon has many names, but reverence is always present in their ring. The Sun God doesn’t feel anything. Were he human, the blind adoration of the Moon would have made his stomach churn. But he is a God, and he has been made to endure.   
  
“They’ll grow wary of you. You fooled them with your appearance. You disguised as the Sun. Look at that smile of yours. It’s bright, they all tell you that. I frighten them, I’m a loathsome sight, but it’s me they need. Never you. My light is yours to reflect. This is your mission. Do not stray.”   
  
“I won’t be manipulated so easily. Never did I need your light to be worshipped. My presence influence them, and there are more stories about my power than I can count. They love me so they don’t have to fear me.”   
  
A smile of condescension flits across The Moon God’s refined features.  _He doesn’t care for humans, no more than I do,_ the Sun God realises.  
  
“They also need you to see in the night, and that’s a noble, suitable purpose for you. Light the way when I’m gone. But don’t imagine you can replace me. They will always kneel before the Sun. They eat each other without me.”   
  
“You’d burn them if it meant an end to my rule,” the Moon God taunts.  
  
“I can end your rule now. You keep escaping me, because you fear me,” says the Sun, and has his devoted followers throw ashes at the Moon. It disfigures Light, ridicules the Moon God within him.   
  
To return the offense, the Moon God rises the seas and swallows the Sun Temples. He turns his ancient enemy into a myth, an unjust God, a tyrant.  
  
*  
  
They had loved each other for thousands of years, lifetimes, and an infinity of human existences.   
  
They had hated each other longer than that, but hate wasn’t the culprit. There is nothing quite as efficient as envy to beggar love.   
  
*  
  
Kira and L were uncaged in the dream, and desires drove them. Not ideals. It was a dream Light would sink into sometimes. A dream that showed their true nature. A punishment he kept inflicting on himself. When the dream visited him, L knew. Light gripping the edge of the bed. Light sobbing. Light avoiding his gaze at morn.   
  
“They both die in the end,” L said. “I’m not fond of dreams usually, but this one moved me.”   
  
“You didn’t say anything about death,” Nate countered. A smile, the rarest of them, danced across L’s moonlit features. “Didn’t I? The Moon God, ever displeased with himself, sabotaged his own cult trying to outshine the Sun. A fate worth than death, really. You should see him now, sad and misshapen and hated by mortals as a fickle God.”   
  
“The Sun God resisted every slight. That’s brave of him,” Mihael said gravely. “Though I think he shouldn’t have used his followers to get back at the Moon.”  
  
 “Brave? They were adversaries. It was bound to be lonely. They should have left it at that.” L ran a hand across his face, wiped sorrow away.   
  
The next morning, he told Light they had enough evidences against him. 


	2. The Jar, Laurence and the Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Childhood Friends AU for Lex.

Candies in a jar to chase his sister’s nightmares. This is not the incipit of a tale, but the beginning of a fall – a literal one. The polished floor will soon crash on him. Is it supposed to be the other way round? He wasn’t meant to fall.   
  
*  
  
“Excuse me. Miss?”  
  
He chose the most charming voice in his repertoire. It pleased the adults like a taste of honey.   
  
“May I have just a few more candies?” he dared.   
The supervisor regarded him at lengths and with primed lips, the same way she considered liars and petty thieves. That was humiliating.  
  
  _I should explain,_ Light thought. “It’s for my sister. She can’t nap, because bad dreams keep waking her.”  
  
“She will always have nightmares,” the woman whips back. “Sing a lullaby.” Her voice frightens Light, and all he can think is:  _but I can’t sing._  What is he supposed to do then?

*  
  
The adults placed the candy jar atop of the armoire. It’s immense and casts a vast, terrifying shadow, like the men who found their parents. Sayu kept tugging at his sleeve when they talked. She wanted a translation. Light could not offer it to her. In his memories, the men had no expression and more important affairs to attend to. They left the two orphans in their colourless little world of large hands placed upon their shoulders in compassion. All the adults started to look like death. Death has no face and wears suits of dark coal. 

  
  
At the orphanage, the adults hide beneath comforting platitudes. Their smiles ring in their voices but never reach their faces. They too, dress all in black.   
  
The other orphans dissolve their sorrow into laughter at every turn. It seems unfair to Light, an ill-defined conception of grief. If they truly had holes in their hearts, they wouldn’t allow themselves these childish instants of bliss. Sorrow would inhabit them, move them like a puppeteer his marionette.   
  
They owe their parents that much. Light thinks his smile is not a terrible loss; he has other assets. It’s for Sayu he fears. She has a merry, playful nature and her head is filled with quips and amiable mockery. Their parents loved their daughter that way. If wearing their sorrow on their faces is their duty, Light accepts to be dutiful for the two of them. Sayu’s smile, that would be a dreadful loss.  
  
Back to the present, Light fixes his gaze on the jar up above. It reflects the sharp daylight flooding the kitchens. He gets a grip on the armoire, pulls himself up, and begins to climb.In mind, his sister is cheering him on, whilst his father studies him with stern judging eyes. One of them is dead. One of them has left them alone. It’s for the living we live, the dead deserve nothing. He climbs higher up the buffet, with silent tears in his eyes.   
 _  
It’s a good action, it’s a good action, and candies are made for sad children._ Just like that, he ceases to be a shameful little boy and becomes a hero with a mission. When he freezes midway to the top, Light closes his eyes and centres himself as he has been taught.   
  
The illusion endures until his hand shivers and his grasp on the tarnished armoire weakens.   
  
*  
  
He falls, but his body does not crash against the shiny floor. The arms that catch him feel so fragile that Light’s first instinct is to apologise to the teenager with bony limbs.  
  
His tears silence his words, and he supresses a sob as his feet meet the ground again. Light has been safely rescued. Relief settles into shame in his stomach.   
  
“I did my share of stupid things too. Don’t feel bad,” the teenager tells him, kneeling so their eyes meet. His voice is softer than a stuffed animal and quieter than a music box. “You thought the end justified the means.”   
  
Light gives a feeble nod. It was cleverly phrased and exactly how he had felt. “I’m Laurence.” He extends a pale hand to Light. His nails are painted black.   
  
“I think you’re Light.” Light clasps the hand that’s offered to him. He hesitates to shake it, for a flicker of an instant. He holds it firmly instead, needing comfort. A childlike sort of comfort.   
  
“It was for my sister,” he tells Laurence, in a voice he hopes doesn’t sound too weak.  
  
“The candies? I figured. You’re too cautious to break the rules for your own pleasure, aren’t you?”   
  
Light detects mockery in his tone but decides to ignore it. “…I think so.”   
  
“Here,” Laurence says, slipping a bag of candies out of his pocket, “For your little sister, valiant hero.”  
  
After a second of hesitation, Light grabs the bag and retreats from the kitchens without glancing back.    
  
*  
  
Sayu relished the colourful candies and Laurence made a song out of it all. Perched on his armchair, he told a tale of a young boy who overcame his fear of heights to bring his sister happiness. Light protested. It was not the heights he feared, but the fall.   
  
It takes him weeks to tell their real story to Laurence. The accident, the burial, the adults that looked all the same. As his tears finally break free, Light distinguishes suffering in Laurence’s eyes. Bizarrely, it warms his heart.   
  
*  
  
Some good-natured couple adopt the Yagami children. The director tells them the day they leave the orphanage will be the brightest day of their lives.  _Another lie_. The clouds are heavy and Sayu tugs at Laurence’s sleeve ferociously. Light knows they will not see each other before a long time; eternity, perhaps. Their luggage look like small coffins. He forces himself to say goodbye this time. Eternity is a long wait after all, and he owes that to his parents.   
  
Laurence makes himself smile. “You’ll never need to steal candies from the jar. There will always be someone to get them for you now.” He observes Light’s wide lovely eyes and ruffles his hair. “Go, now.”   
  
Light follows Laurence’s slender silhouette as he climbs up the stairs to his empty cold room. He never glances back. Light almost misses the car to his new home.   
  
*  
  
Years pile up, similar and constant, stitched together in an orderly, depressing pattern. Light refuses to eat candies. It’s like eating memories. Or lies.   
  
*  
  
They meet again and it’s November, rainy November, but it’s the brightest day of Light’s life.Laurence’s voice quiets Light, and it would feel like eight years ago if not for their bodies. It’s not just their ages. Solitude reflects in the eyes, and it leaves you with a face that even a sincere smile can’t lighten. Guilt lingers, acid, biting, in Light’s mouth.    
  
He learns a few novel things about Laurence. Notably that he doesn’t share his candies anymore. He also keeps an extra bag with him that he watches with the same devotion a dragon his treasures. Just in case he meets that chivalrous little boy again.   


	3. Sing for me, Detective (I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Detective AU, part one!

One thing Light has for detective Lawliet is his voice. It’s calm and menacing as a distant rainstorm, and it might have Light’s heart galloping from time to time. Light figures he should rather hate that voice for that, but humans tend to pardon the hurt caused by beautiful things. That’s the excuse he devises for his own weakness.

Truth is, Light is really not in a good place presently. He’d talk to Lawliet about it, the dullness of it all, but he doesn’t want to give too much away. Lawliet could understand, maybe a little too well. He has been in and out of depression, they say it to his back with childish nasty voices. Light judges his colleagues for that, but hears them all the same. It upsets him sometimes. What would they whisper about him? Nobody knows about his own propensity to melancholy, and even he doesn’t think it’s worth talking about.

Lawliet is a private. The consultant they need to resolve the enigmas none of them has been trained for. Perhaps that’s why they all resent him, he’s greater than them, without even trying. Light is on the same level, but they all forgive a young man who has to endure the pressure of his last name. He has to fill the void left by Soichirô Yagami: how could he be anything else than great? They side-eye Lawliet’s arrogance, but would never forgive Light a mistake.

A palpable evidence of Light’s current gloom is his participation to the weekly karaoke night. It never happened, in the 3 months he’s been working at the station. Matsuda looks on the verge of passing out when his persistence is rewarded at last.

“You’ll not regret it, Light,” he promises with a wide smile. “You’ll  _not_  regret it. You’ll love it, okay?” At this point, Light hesitates to go back on his word for Matsuda’s sake. He’s sweating, and rolls on the balls of his feet in anticipation. Light offers a thin smile, and assures him he shouldn’t be so nervous. This doesn’t extinguish Matsuda’s swelling nervousness, so Light suggest they go back to work as a last resort.

Matsuda is unable to sit still all afternoon, and Light has to insist adamantly that he doesn’t tell everyone he will be attending their stupid karaoke night. He does not, of course, utter the word ‘stupid’ and he even keeps the irritation from his voice.

Matsuda blushes furiously. “I only told Aizawa, and Ide…and Misora. Maybe Mogi?”

“No one else?”

“Lawliet might have heard about it…” Matsuda trails off upon the sudden change in Light’s expression. “But I didn’t intend to. He was…uh, lurking around. I didn’t see him!”

“It’s not a problem,” Light says with no sincerity whatsoever. “Did he say something?”

Matsuda bites his bottom lip, and in a voice still thin: “He said he’d come to see you sing.”

Of course, Lawliet certainly didn’t choose words so neutral. Light can do his voice from imagination. _The prodigy can sing pretty sappy songs? I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Count me in._

Light pivots on his heels after thanking Matsuda coldly.

*

He catches sight of the tattoo on Lawliet’s arm. The bites left by the needles are gone now, veiled in black ink. It’s a habit of Light, to believe anything unpleasant will disappear if you cover it with something beautiful, like a smile, or a courtesy. Of course, Lawliet doesn’t allow himself to forget. The tattoo is only his way to promote his difference. He is special, gifted, and doesn’t abide by the rules. That’s how Light perceives his infuriating arrogance, and his habit of stealing food from the common kitchen at the station.

The tattoo slithers around Lawliet’s pale, marked skin. It’s gripping. Light makes himself look away, tilts his head, glances about. They are all smiles and unbridled laughter, save for Lawliet and himself. They all know about Lawliet’s troubled past, but how many of them accept it?  _Are you looking for their acceptance, Lawliet?_  Does he know that in this room, there’s a stranger worrying about him?

“Your turn, Lawliet!” Ide exclaims, and Light resents him for that. Lawliet might get on his nerves at times, he is not the sort of man Light wants to see embarrass himself. He sees too much of him in the detective. The second-hand embarrassment will be terrible.

Lawliet gives a vague nod and edges to the stage. Not a glance to Light.  _They will never respect you again after that. Serves you well,_ Light thinks bitterly. Half of them would pay to see Lawliet, the ever controlled private, fall. It’s never just a laugh, never a simple jape. Light has the propensity to detect schemes everywhere. He knows, it’s a terrible habit of his. Alcohol doesn’t help.

He takes a sip of his cocktail, watching Lawliet’s hand clasping the mic from the corner of his eye. 

Of course, Lawliet can’t sing. He doesn’t look like someone who sings.

If he did, though…it would be sorrowful, and slow, and haunting like a lullaby. It would slice through the noise and impose silence. If Lawliet sang, it would be unforgettable.

It would sound just like the voice Light is presently delighting in.

Swallowing against his throat, the taste of that voice lingered in his mouth, like ghostly images persists in mind long after a nightmare.

His heart beat follows the cadence of the song, beating the rhythm Lawliet dictates for Light.

The melancholy voice reaches a crescendo, and the contrast with the corny idiotic lyrics is entrancing. Heads of strangers crane in their direction. Nobody sings like that, not in this place for joyful living beings. 

 _He shouldn’t be there_. Livid under the spotlights, Lawliet resembles a ghost that Light wouldn’t mind in his empty house.

*

“Oh, it’s Yagami,” Lawliet says upon hearing Light’s careful steps. He doesn’t move from his laid back position against the wall.

After studying Light for a few seconds, he adds, in a voice still calm: “And he doesn’t hold his alcohol, visibly.”

“I’m perfect –“ Light begins, and he is cut off by Lawliet’s smirk.

“Of course you are.”

Light rolls his eyes, supresses a shiver. It’s a chill December night. “I meant  _perfectly fine_.”

There is a moment of silence, filled with the unsaid words they can’t help but share. Light is struck that they’ve barely been alone since they met. It’s giving him a headache.

“I just wanted to tell you that you have a beautiful voice,” Light blurts out. He folds his arms against his chest, while Lawliet flicks the ash off his cigarette.

“You’ve heard my voice before tonight,” Lawliet drawls. He pauses, and feigning realisation: “Oh, it’s the singing. You couldn’t get enough of it, could you?”

The remark, the faux-nonchalance in his tone, and the cigarette smoke he puffs out, all of these are suitable motives to hate him on the spot.

Now, Light has limited knowledge of physics, but perhaps too much negative energy might move a body with increased vivacity. This should be applicable to the human body, and if it’s not…well, he will find another excuse for his behaviour.

He leans slightly and brushes Lawliet’s wrist, traces the lines of his bones until his fingers reach the half-lit cigarette. He slides it off Lawliet’s fingers easily, and throw it away in a whim.

“Is this a game?” Through the haze, Light detects hints of worry in Lawliet’s voice. It may be his imagination.

Light places his hand on the left side of Lawliet’s neck. “You looked at me when you sang. You couldn’t stop looking at me. You tried to fight it, but you always came back.”

And, with his lips moving slowly against his skin: “I loved it.”

The dim light of the terrace softens Lawliet’s features. Light favours them sharp and peculiar, but he takes advantage of that change. He reads fragility in those wide eyes, and desire branded on his cheeks.

“I could see that,” Lawliet tries, but his voice lacks the usual sarcasm.

Light takes it as an invitation. He throws his arms around Lawliet’s neck and pulls him into a kiss. He ensures that the night unfolds as he pleases, and it starts by intimating Lawliet to sing for him again.

Lawliet promises him in a breath, and Light smiles against his lips because Lawliet does look like a man of his word.


	4. Lessons in Coffee Making (and a hint of Swedish)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coffee Shop AU inspired by Beyondbirthdaying.

The barrista is playing a game with him. Light deduced that from a careful analysis of the man’s mannerisms.  _He has a unique way of handing me his latte_ , he thinks and bites his lip as he realises how ridiculous it sounds.   
His name tag reads  _Lawliet_. Now that’s nonsense. Light loses two hours of sleep pondering what kind of name is that. French? English? He rolls onto his back, envisioning Lawliet speaking any of those languages. Time flies.  
  
He even studies a bit of Swedish. That’s how he gets the idea. 

  
Light sets up an intricate schedule. There’s no way Lawliet can be there every hour of every day to serve him.  
But he is. Light pushes the door open and the dawning of a smile brightens his features when he sees him, leant against the wall behind the counter, eyes glazed. It’s anticipation that draws a smile from Light, though; this is the day his plan will succeed.   
  
Still it’s nice, the way Lawliet allows himself a sigh of relief when Light finally shows up. Light is so proud, his heart beats a mad cadence. 

“You’re always here,” Light says accusingly after ordering. 

 “Don’t give me that look,” Lawliet responds almost fondly. “I’m not stalking you.” He hands him the usual latte. His fingers are curled beautifully around the cup.  
  
”I can see how you look at me,” Light says, his voice withholding the slightest hint of nervousness. _Carry on with the plan._  
  
An expression of sincere surprise passes accross Lawliet’s features. He looks so different. Light swallows, musters up the courage to hold his gaze.  
  
“Would you tell me your name?” L finally asks, and Light bites his lip not to laugh. 

He sighs just as he planned to, leans over the counter, the better to charm, and says: “Chase me.”   
  
Lawliet blinks at him. Twice.   
  
After a tense silence, Light slides the cup off Lawliet’s hand, slowly brushing his skin. “What’s the matter? It’s just my name. Phonetically.”

Light pauses, considers the effect of his words and the changes in Lawliet’s attitude. “In Swedish,” Light adds maliciously. Lawliet lifts an eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest. 

“I’d have my latte checked next time, if I were you,” Lawliet drawls. His defense mechanism is coldness, then. 

Lawliet is still staring when Light pivots on his heels and leaves.  _Frustration looks marvelous on him as well._  A radical departure from his usual aloofness. Light relishes his latte. The time he lost studying languages because of Lawliet finally paid off. 


	5. Sing for me, Detective (II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second part of the Detective AU!

So many wishes Light ends up regretting – even that role he acts out so perfectly, it’s tiring how they all believe it. Not one of them to doubt the moral compass he borrowed his father, and polished, and plastered on his face for everyone to see.  _May everyone believe in me, always._ It’s a wish he made long ago. He has only himself to blame after all, for a childish dream that came true. His plans are perfect, but he’s a player who delights in the bets and regrets the endgame.

The fantasy they shared under the dim lights of Lawliet’s flat, though it started like a dream, derailed.

He thought Lawliet to be like him. Turns out, they have their differences. Firstly, Lawliet is lithe, and strangely athletic. Light noticed it, that night; the grace in his movements. Naively, he attributed it to an eagerness to please his lover, or to ease his guilt.

In truth, Lawliet masters several martial arts, and punched more than a few people in his mess of a life. He is discreetly muscular, whilst Light is stiff; rigid, beneath all his elegance. His childhood home had a narrow treacherous stair that had him tumbling down once. The shame that seized him that day served as a motivation to perfect his catalogue of supple gestures, courteous smiles, and careful comments.

Lawliet can fight, break an arm or escape you in a swift movement.

That, and he can dance.

They danced twice, that night. Only well-coordinated movements could draw such high praise from Light. He had whispered it against Lawliet’s skin, and his voice was so soft it seemed it was made of silk.

He refuses the coffee his colleagues offer him in turn. His throat is dry, not for thirst. Misplaced guilt is parching it.

_I should have left before the music started._

*

“It’s not what you expected, is it? You thought I’d kiss you and take you to my bed. But it’s not exactly what you want,” Lawliet says.

Though his voice bears no trace of venom, Light regards him warily. “I didn’t expect anything from you.” He leans his back against a wall.  _Painted black; like most of the place._

It’s as if Lawliet reads his thoughts. “Black helps me think. There is no aesthetic claim about it. I simply am better with it.” He gestures towards the radio, turns it on. An admirable melody fills the room; it’s a quiet song of summer, suited for febrile, sleepless nights. “Same with music. My interest in it is opportunistic.”

 _Lawliet, an opportunist?_ The notion amuses Light, because it seems like an ill-adjusted mask instead of the truth. “Is my presence here…the result of an opportunity you seized?”

“I suppose so.” Lawliet’s voice, low and clear, is a perfect fit to the melody hanging in the air.

“As an opportunist, will you take advantage of it?” Light says, relishing the weight of Lawliet’s gaze roaming over him.

“Oh, yes.” Lawliet flashes an agile hand, and fingers curls around Light’s wrist, drawing him closer. “Exactly as you had planned, Yagami,” he breathes, too close. The raw scent of cigarette rushes down Light’s throat whilst his body responds to the tease, arching, shivering.

Horrified, Light realises he’s wanted this for a long time. Not the touches, or his body, he hardly ever did that kiss in mind. No, it’s grimmer. Graver. It’s Lawliet’s fixation he always desired, to be the cause of his insomnia, his enigma. Once, in a fever, he dreamt he killed for Lawliet, for his unmitigated attention.  _I was unwell. It was a delirium, not a dream._

“Can you dance, dear Light?” For the first time since he stepped into Lawliet’s flat, Light detects the marks left by alcohol in his voice. It’s softer, quieter, and it has a sorrowful ring to it, like that of his singing voice.

“This is not a song made for dancing,” Light protests, and bites his bottom lip as Lawliet throws his arms around his neck. “I am not able –“

“It’s my advantage,” Lawliet cuts him off, and moves slowly, enticing Light into a dance.

If only, if only it was a dance. It’s a dialogue, with gestures for words, and music for tone.  _Another man would have undressed me already._ Light considers this turn of events in disbelief. There is sensuality, indecency in Lawliet; his self-indulgence repels Light at times, and that shameless appetite…From someone like that, he only expected sex as usual. A night Light could freely regret later on.

 _He caught me._ Dancing is not immoral, and even he can’t kid himself into regretting it.

His body is moving along Lawliet, teasing his hazy mind. He’s never handled alcohol. Drinking is another excuse for his midnight missteps –  _I wasn’t thinking clearly, everyone has such vile desires they need to rein in._ A part of him thinks it’s pathetic, another that it’s a clever way out. But he never had it in himself to question his true desires.

“It’s intimacy you long for. I solved the riddle long ago,” Lawliet tells him as the music fades away, leaving them standing face to face and staring.

“I expected you to sleep with me. Intimacy was never part of the picture.”

Lawliet’s eyes dull as if with regret.  _Does he believe me?_ Feeling his legs weakening beneath him, Light crosses his arms over his chest and goes on: “And if you don’t want me, then you should go. I trust you won’t tell anyone. There’s no way for you to prove what happened anyhow.” He closes his eyes, exhausted.

In no time, Lawliet moves his hand to Light’s face, and cups it. Light’s eyes fling open and a pang of fear silences him. He fails to establish the intent beneath the gesture.

Lawliet’s hair is a dark tumble about his shoulders, his look is sharp, revealing, cutting through Light’s seemingly invincible composure. Never has he seemed so wild. He reminds Light he is not the only convincing act in the show.

“You never were attracted to any of them, to anyone. You let them touch you, but what is it you’re truly waiting for?” Around Lawliet’s arm, the words in black ink distract Light.  _In tenebris…_ “I believe you to be asexual. But your love is as destructive, intense, and sincere as any physical act of love. Does that frighten you?”

After hesitating, Light replies: “Perhaps.” He could have devised a better answer, really. But Lawliet’s tattoo robs him of all his attention, and alcohol weakens his mind.

“Not ‘perhaps’, Yagami. This is not an answer. Do you believe it will content me? I’m not easily satisfied.” Lawliet brushes a strand of hair off Light’s face, traces his boyish features pensively. Then, upon noticing Light’s gaze: “It says In Tenebris Spero Lucem. I won’t offend you by translating it.”

“In darkness I hope for light.” An easy smile dances across Light’s face, and he seems younger for this playfulness. “So, that’s what  _you_  are truly waiting for, detective. Me?”

In retaliation, Lawliet snakes a hand under his shirt.  _“_ I don’t need to wait for you. You come to me.”Voluptuous in his touch, harsh in his words, Lawliet is playing him in the cleverest of ways. It’s almost unfair to resent him for that. Of course, Light is not above unfairness as long as he can excuse it.  _You can’t give yourself away._

They dance again that night, whispering praises and insults in turn, and that imperfect harmony they create together feels as beautiful as some of his recurring nightmares. He’s unveiled in his nightmares, unveiled and sincere.

*

It’s not quite a fairy tale. Light does try to forget him. He closes his eyes and think of duty…but duty, for a romantic, is like the oak-tree of the fable; strong and menacing and all-mighty until rises the tempest.


	6. Children and Fears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Married with Children!AU

It’s not the life he had planned for himself. At first glance, oh, it’s the  _best_. To think he ever experienced deathlike, endless boredom. His life before L was a terrifying haze - only solitude and despair. Thinking about it now was a strange experience. They had found, loved and married each other, defeating destiny at its own game, as the keen chess players they were.

 _But L wanted kids._  
Damn L and his saviour complex. Damn L and his (totally understandable) sympathy for orphans. Damn L. He was such an  _outstanding_ father.   
  
Light would never be. Children hate liars.

“Why won’t you let them call you dad?” L asks, leaning against his desk.  
  
Light swallows, eyes not drifting away from the book he can’t focus on. “You know why.”   
  
“I’m an excellent father.” L responds, his voice level as always.   
  
Light throws his book on the couch, leaps on his feet. “It’s not amusing, L.”  
  
“I’m excellent.” L insists. He places a hand upon Light’s shoulder. “But nothing I can do is out of your reach, my Light.”


	7. Of Grace In the Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> L swims, Light doesn't.

“You can let me go now, Ryûzaki,” Light had said with feigned confidence. “I can swim perfectly well on my own.”  
L had released his grip, left him alone in the water. Terror came in ebbs and flows, and gripping at his throat, the lingering smell of chemicals. Within seconds, Light was choking on the poolside. L made it look all too easy. He moved in deep water so gracefully, at the cadence of the waves. In the absolute silence of the swimming pool, Light observed his long limbs and his pale skin, chin resting on his palm.  
A strange thought struck him that quirky, freakish Ryûzaki was a vessel protecting the real L. The man who gladly dives in the water as he delves into the most intricate mysteries. How painful, not to be able to follow him. 


	8. Mine, the Treasure and Maybe That Pirate's Life too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pirates!AU with hints of Misa/Takada. L = Deneuve here.

He has found the artefact wrapped in Deneuve's sash.

The artefact is a wonder, red as blood, beautiful as a promise. Pirates and buccaneers, strangers and enemies, they would turn the seven seas upside down for it. Rules and friends, they weighted nothing with death, decay, oblivion on the other side of the balance. Light studies the artefact attentively. He hefts it in the palm of his hand.

In the stories, the artefact is the most powerful thing there is.

And yet, Deneuve relinquished it without a fight.

That foolish adventurer. He never understood the stakes. Death is a force to be reckoned with – the only true form of power, controlling the fragile threads binding us to life. Pulling the strings, that was the promise of the artefact.

Deneuve fancied himself a courageous man. An illusion. Suicidal, venturesome, that’s all he was. He had been afraid, after all, the day his own crew marooned him. Light recalled that day and the ecstasy of finally outwitting his Captain. The feeling was still vivid.

Light had been merciful enough not to wedge his dagger into him. That was against the code. Even pirates needed rules, he had learnt.

“You don’t know how to use it. I’ll show you. My mortal life for your eternal life.” Deneuve insists, his hands clasping the cold bars of his cell. Light doesn’t even lift his head to glance at him, eyes still fixed on the shiny pearl of red.

If he enjoyed watching a man indulging in such dishonour, he’d visit his cells more often. The quartermaster does that for him, usually. Mikami specialises in punishments.

Deneuve is a special case.

Yagami favours his prisoner with a slow smile. “How can you trust me with your life after what I did to you?”

“Excellent remark. You charmed my crew, turned them against me. You abandoned me, left me for dead without even the favour of one last glance at me.” Deneuve spits the words, it’s all in vain. Light maintains a cold expression, considering his prisoner as…a mere prisoner. That’s all he is. “You stole my ship. Worst deed of all.  _My ship_.” Deneuve goes on, glaring. Some men stare from behind the iron bars. Light edges closer to his foe, so nobody eavesdrops on their conversation.

Only the bars of Deneuve’s cell stand between their two bodies.

“You misbehaved, kid.” Deneuve hisses. Light flinches at the nickname. “Oh, you were mean to me. But see, I was not surprised.” Deneuve says, with feigned joy and a toothy smile. “I always thought you were capable of dark, dark cruelty in spite of your manners.”

Light hooks a thumb through his swordbelt, uneasy. He shouldn’t have looked at him. His treacherous eyes won’t drift away from his ex-Captain. There is something powerful in confronting a man you planned never to see again. It’s not guilt, Light is assured of that.

How could he snake his fingers around Deneuve’s pale throat, slowly, mercilessly, if it was?

“I will never trust you. But you need me. Alive.” Deneuve has the audacity to choke. Light feels Deneuve’s pulse increasing madly in tempo under his fingertips. He doesn’t release him just yet. If it wasn’t for the iron bars between them, he would have slammed him down on the ground already.

Silence descends and there is only Deneuve’s jagged breath and the distant roiling sound of the ocean.

“I will never beg.” Deneuve breathes, reading Light’s thoughts and desires instantly.

Light tightens his grip and soon Deneuve’s nails dig into Light’s wrist, in a desperate attempt to escape.

“It’s a shame you won’t respond to logic.” Yagami announces with feigned regret. He calls one of his men to his side with a supple motion of his free hand. It all it takes him to be obeyed.

Deneuve refuses to indulge in his intimidation tactics. Perceptive as always. “Calling your men for help, Captain?” He says, scarcely above a whisper.

Light slowly, almost reluctantly, removes his hand from Deneuve’s neck. “Free him. I will have a promenade on the deck in his company.” He tells his men. Deneuve slides out of the cell, still gasping for air.

As the ex-Captain shuffles beside him, Light lifts the treasure he stole from Deneuve at eye level. In the darkness of the hold, the artefact shimmers like a star.

*

Terror stabs first. Deep, unexpected. On the deck stands a little crowd of strangers. Pirates, from the look of it. A glance to the side informs him it’s the crew of the Dauntless – the legendary ship, with its rich, vivid colours and the unmistakable flag of bright pink. Its Captain is a woman, Light knows, a woman of the ruthless kind.

Misa Amane stands before him, wearing an elegant garb of crimson and a malicious smile. Her entire crew dissolves into crude laugher upon seeing his expression.

“What happened?” Light barks, turning to his quartermaster. “Mikami? Did you let them embark our ship?!”

The water thunders beneath them. Silence falls, Mikami’s lips part but he is silenced by a swift sound tearing the air before him. Light and Deneuve crane their heads in unison. A dagger is now wedged into the wooden door they just passed.

“Yagami. Long time no see.” A woman announces, voice sharp and clear. She wrenches her dagger loose and Light recognises her. She is dressed in silk and damask, intricate pattern embroidered on the sleeves. It’s wonderfully elegant, in the pirate fashion.

 _Impossible._ He is reeling from the shock.

She takes advantage of that; kicks him in the back of the knee, forces the knife under his chin. Upon her silent command, two of his men seize his arms and the artefact that fell on the deck. Light makes an embarrassing sound of despair.

“We’re taking over this ship. And its crew.” Takada says, and it’s obvious she is there to hurt him. His instinct is to fall on his knees and apologise, and entrance her again, but he resists.

Not before  _him_ , of all people. Deneuve is standing over him, free, amused, and taunting.

“You’re behind all this?” Light tries to wriggle away from the pirates’ grip but Takada twists her dagger and a drop of blood runs down the blade.

“Me? I never escaped your…persistent surveillance. No, it seems to me that you’re the subject of a grave mutiny, Captain. Or is it what they call…a just retaliation?” Deneuve muses.

Light understands the situation all too clearly. All of a sudden, the salty air of the endless ocean sears his lungs and burns his eyes. This can’t be happening.

The Captain of the Dauntless places a hand upon Takada’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry, Light Yagami. Your crew is enchanted by the idea of fighting beside me.” She beams. Light swallows, darts his eyes to his crew. They had all been chosen. They believed in him. And here they stand now, a little crowd of pathetic traitors, averting his gaze. Even Mikami. He is eyeing Takada like she’s some sort of deity.

“This ship was supposed to be your noble vessel, the one you were offered by my parents to take me home.” Takada recalls, sheathing her dagger. She treads away from him, hovers around the mast. Her fingers skim the wood, scratch it. “I waited for you, but I suppose you just used my disappearance as the perfect excuse to run away…Or did you plan it all from the start? Tell me, Captain.” Then, upon Light’s startled silence: “You know what? It hardly matters now.” A beat. She glances down at his garb, lingers on the magnificent ruby arranged over his chest, eyes filled with disdain.

“Deneuve, come. You, release Yagami.” Misa orders.

At once, he is thrown over to the deck’s hard surface and Deneuve takes a careful step in Misa’s direction. His leather boots click across the polished deck of  _the Providence_. There is a hint of pity in the look Deneuve shoots him then. Light swallows, realising that he is about to lose his ship.

“You should listen to the ladies, Yagami. Miss Takada here seized an opportunity. Casted away by her cowardly fiancé, she associated herself with her captor and found a loyal, reliable companion in her.” Deneuve says slowly. “Something you could never do. One day, perhaps, you will see how selfish and cruel you were to me.” The words flow out easily, but the stream is cold as ice.

What Light hears beneath the icy surface terrifies him.

Misa chuckles and her crew mirror her amusement. She saunters to Deneuve’s side, brandishes the artefact before his eyes.

“So, this is the treasure you promised me. Eternal life.”

Deneuve’s eyes refuse to drift away from Light. He sighs, his expression indecipherable. “Yes.”

“Don’t you fear death, Captain?” Misa queries, sounding genuinely interested.

“I’d rather have the ship. That’s your promise. The artefact for  _the Providence_.”

“And its captain.” Takada intervenes, glaring at Light.

“And its captain.” Deneuve echoes. “He stole everything from me. I have the right to punish him the way I see fit.”

“Oh, you will. But you see, I never forget a face, nor a slight.” Misa says, and she edges closer to Deneuve. He is rather pale, above his sombre collar. “The ambush of the St Lazarus cost me twenty men. Good men.”

Deneuve had been a privateer, and his past would often come to haunt him. “I cede the ship to you, if you want.” He offers.

“You’d renounce the ship, but not him? Are you some sort of masochist, perhaps? This man will always betray you.” Takada hisses.

“He already did.” Deneuve avows. Once in mockery, Light told him he fancied himself a martyr, finding pleasure in the company of liars and runaways.

Misa and Takada exchange a conniving glance. They look so different, and yet they have the same gleam of malice in their eyes.

“You will be very happy together.” Is the last thing they hear from them.

Their bodies smash the dark, shimmering water in unison.

*

They had watched the Providence and the Dauntless disappear in the darkness in absolute silence. Then they started to fight, alone and desperate and abandoned on a deserted island. Light found himself relishing Deneuve’s touches, however painful.

“It happened because of you.” Deneuve whispers. Salt water dripple from his long hair and fall onto Light’s cheeks.  

Deneuve has pushed Light on to the burning sand on his back, knees pinned on his stretched out hands. In spite of the exhaustion, Light struggles beneath him. “You never trusted me either.” He counters by way of an explanation.

“I did.” Deneuve says, shifting in his position so he straddles Light. “And you favoured that damned artefact over me.”

Light swallows bile, unable to form a convincing answer in mind. The stars are still laughing in the sky, shiny and distant as the treasure he has lost.


	9. Water, Wonder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First Kiss!

It happens in the bath. Rather fitting, Light muses in a haze of impossible pleasure. It felt a lot like drowning, kissing L. He could breathe, that was not the problem. But well, those who loved the sea, truly loved it, didn’t mind the tempests and the nights it roiled furiously against the cliffs. 

L bites him, sucks his lips red. He moves his hands to Light’s swaying hips, brushes his over-sensitized skin, slowly, avidly. His strange sugary scent is the only tangible reality. That, and his mouth. Was he always so eager? And his hands, they have a sort of incomparable grace. 

If lovers of the sea had to die, being swallowed whole was a desirable option. His fingers run through L’s hair, and he smiles against his mouth. Light is drowning and lacks the will to kick towards the surface.

“Again.” He says, and this time, his back arches unbridled, mirroring the slightest of L’s movements.

It’s an outrage. To his education, the rules, and everything that’s expected of him.   
It feels like an outrage. But only because it ends. 

For some reason, unconditional love is acceptable to him. It’s different from the rest. Untouched by dull, boring reality.  _Special_  and just for them.


	10. Contrasts In Fright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FTM!L, by request. This one was very popular on tumblr and I'm glad that I handled the issue with care.

Humanity is easy to forget. It loses against cruelty and greatness alike. A monster can be great too, so much so that humans elevate him high above their heads.  
And reject them as one of their own in the same movement. Here lies Light’s mistake.

It happens late at night, in the special place that is their unmonitored room.

“You have no idea how it is. The pressure,” Light says, averting L’s insisting gaze. “Not being able to explain yourself.”

It would be foolish to expect comfort from L. So foolish, Light denies himself the sentiment. And indeed, when the detective’s voice finally rings, it’s to reprimand him.

“Oh god, Light,” he sighs, his expression veiled as usual. “Think before you speak. Isn’t that your speciality?”

In his egotism, Light is persuaded his feelings are overlooked because he is a suspect. What else could it be? L admitted to being childish himself.

“I apologise for hurting your feelings, L, but you do live a sheltered life,” Light counters, standing stiff-backed before L. “Even if you’re different, who’s going to hate you for that?” 

“Me,” he answers then, and his voice trembles. “I came close to hating myself. Something you never experienced.”

Light swallows hard. It’s true that he could never despise his weakness or the troubles in his heart. With everyone, including himself, he acted the part they wanted to see. 

But to L, lies are a coward’s weapon. Sheltering himself in a lie, no matter how well-crafted, how solid, would lead to more self-hatred. 

It seems surreal that L, of all people, would give in to self-hatred. If someone disrespect him, he has the power to prove them wrong on the spot. He is the greatest detective, one of a kind. 

“How did you fight it, then? Self-hatred” Light ventures, tilting his head to meet L’s gaze. He hopes to sound comforting, even extends a hand…

L blurts it out, the only way a painful truth can be revealed. “Well, transitioning helped.”

Light freezes, his hand halts its journey to L’s shoulder. The words have the effect of a freezing wind whipping around him.  

“It didn’t solve everything, but it brought peace, eased my heart.”  An expression of sorrow passes accross L’s features. He regrets his confession, already.

Shock settles into bitter, aching shame in Light’s stomach. L never confides anything, so it’s not his fault that he fucked up. Right?

He wants to talk his way out of this, feels the words lodged in his throat. He wraps his arms around L instead.

His embrace is reciprocated and Light shudders at the thought that he might be just playing the part L needs him to play. The understanding friend.

Someone who would abnegate years worth of prejudices, a childish fear of the unknown, the traditional education of his loving parents…   
  
Someone who could change, just for him.

Then again, the truth is grimmer than Light thinks. He simply has no deep-rooted prejudices, or belief, or anything fixed within him.   
In comparison with L, who had the courage to become who he was always meant to be, he is nothing, and anything.


	11. Fly, fly, fly (Silence of the Lambs AU)

The agents knew it was Lawliet they were facing; the man held a lollipop the way gangsters show off a gun. He was a permanent threat to anyone intelligent. His eyes saw what clever minds tend to dismiss, he believed in good, evil, and settled for the shadow between them. He smiled, but sourly, and always at his own jokes.

He told the agents a few words before entering the cell. Together, they formed the phrase: “Do not disturb me while I’m with him.”  which was almost a pleasant sound, but on their own, each word weighted as heavy as stone.

Lawliet had been granted one visit - as the genius who deciphered a code no one understood was a code, they owed him that much. One visit, that was akin to one bullet left at the end of a story: you better not miss.  
But Lawliet never missed anything. He always won. He made sure of that.

 _Well, **he** must have thought the same, before he was caught_, Lawliet thought, as his walking drove him to a cell that looked like a bedroom. Every criminal is equal, some more than others. Some have a bed with sheets of linen and a armchair to read Nietzsche in German.

“Hello, Ûbermensch.”

Light Yagami did not move; only favoured the visitor his signature look of sheer disdain. But Lawliet didn’t care for signatures and indifference taunted him.

“I’m the one who caught you,” he continued, aloof, but arrogance radiant inside him. “Your code. The numbers formed a pattern that -”

“I know. It’s my code. I created it.”

That drew a silence from Lawliet, the kind he cherished. They both were getting to know each other now. Yagami remained sat, back straight against his armchair, yet his eyes moved - from Lawliet’s worn-out costume to his disheveled hair. And he made a judgement, like he did for 10,000 humans he deemed unworthy of living. Yagami never had to endure the sight of blood. He commanded crimes, made others obey, believe, and serve.

“Are you here for them? Do they need a serial killer to understand another serial killer?”

Lawliet had to remember not to smile. “No. But I do love a Hannibal parallel alright. Have you psychoanalysed me yet?”

“Yes, and I heard no lamb screaming.”

“What did you hear then?”

Yagami answered immediately:

“The agony of thousands of souls you smothered under your monstrous ego. And your teeth, dying from all the sugar you seem to consume.”  Then, in something of a sigh: “I thought I was done with all of you.”

Although Lawliet could have objected to that first part, he shifted his attention to the second one. “You? You mean, the police?”

“Yes - I mean them, you. All of those who refused to believe me.” Yagami leaped to his feet, perhaps to distract Lawliet from the hint of sorrow in his voice. “So you are the one they were talking about, the day they dared - they dared handcuff me? Do you believe we are somewhat connected, that I owe you for having ruined my life and the fate of this sad, sad world?”

He was a terrible saint, Light Yagami, but a saint all the same. A self-made martyr. It was impossible to look away from such a disaster. His fingers coiled round the bars, there were creaks in his voice, in his allure. Yagami had waited for someone to come, desperately, and only Lawliet knew why it had to be him.

“I’m not working with the police,” Lawliet said, pulling red liquorice out of his pocket; it must have served as an evidence of some sort. Yagami observed him in silence for a few moments.

“I know who you are,” he whispered, as Lawliet swallowed the last piece of liquorice. “You work with my…with Soichirô Yagami, don’t you?”

“I helped him with some intricate cases. I’m a private, though. Flexible work hours, a damp office and endless solitude, what’s not to love?”

In his quiet despair, Yagami simply moved away from the bars and started pacing in his cell, between his bookshelf and the maquette of a glass tower. He had been an architect, as well as a criminal mastermind.

“I don’t get it. I don’t get it! He accepted your help and your methods, all of it. He accepted it for great justice. While me…we all have the same dream, don’t we? For every virtuous soul to live a decent life…”

“I’m not sure of that. Your father fights. He doesn’t dream, he sees danger and runs towards it. As for me, I’m a realist. I know the world is as much a hell than it is a heaven.”

“Heaven? Seen any angels recently?” Yagami snapped. It was, to him, only possible to love the universe the way children love butterflies as they rip off their wings. Selfishly, cruelly. He would destroy the world for it was flawed, not fitted for unconditional love.

“Angels, you say…I avoid those; they’re volatile, egotistic, and fall too easily.”

Yagami halted his pacing, advanced in Lawliet’s direction. “You think this is funny? Nothing makes you better than me. I shouldn’t have been arrested.”

“And yet, here you are. But you’re quite right: it shouldn’t have played out like that. You didn’t have any obligation to send encrypted messages to the police. I say your obsessions made you lose. That, or…”

“Or?”

Lawliet had been granted one visit, one shot, one bullet. But he wasn’t the only one playing the game, was he?

“Or you designed for it to happen.”

An imaginary rope was strangling Lawliet, a poison he dared not name fear, not yet.

“I have always been called a genius. My mother would introduce me like that. A genius, a prodigy,” Yagami said, eyes closed in remembrance. They were glowing with arrogance when he opened them again. “I would have been unworthy of my title, had I not forseen your visit today, don’t you agree?” He brushed Lawliet’s hand then; only the cold went through him. “I knew you would come, someday. Thanks to my devoted followers, the ones you despise, I reasearched you.”

Yagami smiled, then, at last. He had a frightening smile, it sliced through you, cut the skin to your flesh and nerves. Lawliet felt him as never before, a disease settling deep in his marrow.

“You are no stranger to me. I heard it all, the sounds inside your head.” A beat. They’re alone in the world, alone, breathing at the same pace. “You know, of course, you see it in my eyes. I heard snow fall and the murmur of stones. I heard footsteps in the distant winter. And I heard them, I heard the bells.”

An alarm rang then, and Yagami’s plan was in motion. Something fell hard behind Lawliet’s head, and before the world vanished in pain and nausea, words laced in artificial concern reached him.

_“I hope you don’t suffer too much…The world’s a terrible place to live in…See you again…”_


End file.
